


stuck on the inside

by VolunteerFieryDantooinian



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drowning, Hypothermia, Jug fucks up but it's fine, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Trans Character, flufffff, trans Jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolunteerFieryDantooinian/pseuds/VolunteerFieryDantooinian
Summary: punk_rock_yuppie said they wanted Jarchie, so here we go, my first riverdale fic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punk_rock_yuppie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/gifts).



> this sucked, that's ok tho because writing it was hella fun

Jughead didn't think he was going to die that day until he fell in.

It was dark, the last rays of sun brushing the horizon still, but only barely, and the chill was starting to seep into him, no matter how warm his binder was. His hands were shaking slightly as he finished the short hike down to the river, hoping to find some form of evidence relating to Jason's mysterious death. Ropes, a gun, anything, as long as it helped him find an answer.

Archie was late, again, and he wasn't particularly surprised. That was alright, though. He could catch up pretty easily; he was the actually athletic one of the two. 

The rocks were wet thanks to the rain, and he'd already almost slipped a few times. He carefully slid down the hill onto the rocky shore, arriving to roughly where Cheryl had been found. Jughead remembered the water was deeper here, more treacherous, and he frowned, remembering something else.

Somebody had once said that entering the water was a sort of mystery; you didn't know if you would come back to the surface, or stay submerged forever like Jason had. That water was life and death, fear and hope at the same time. He kind of liked that, but it frightened him too. Something glinted out of the corner of his eye, and he turned, spotting something small and shiny perched on the rocks closest to the water. 

Jug carefully made his way down, and when he got closer, he realized what it was: a necklace. One that was distinctly Cheryl's. That wasn't odd, considering she'd been found here; it had probably fallen off. Then he took another step, and everything happened at once. 

Jughead's foot slipped, his ankle twisting as he went down, the rocks digging into his beat-up combat boots as he fought for purchase on the slippery ground and lost. 

"Jug, be-" Archie's distant exclamation was cut off as he plunged into the freezing water, cold silence filling his ears and nose and throat. He thrashed violently and tried to keep from sinking, but to no avail, light not reaching his panicked eyes as he sank rapidly. 

His lungs were crying out for air, but he couldn't do anything but sink and pray to every deity he could think of that he wasn't going to be another Jason. 

The cold of the water was smothering him, and he let himself relax slightly, tried to rationalize but just ended up taking in a mouthful of water, cold and sickening.  _And definitely going to kill me,_ he thought. His head hurt, and he let the silence slip his consciousness away just as fingers slipped around his wrist.

 

\--

 

He let his eyes open slowly, eyes not adjusting well, and he couldn't breathe. 

Jughead took the time to figure out he was lying sprawled out on the rocks, someone's hands pressed to his chest in a panicked fashion, before he started gasping like a dying fish. Suddenly he was upright and coughing, not to mention disoriented, the arm around his shoulders steadying him. 

"Come on, Jug. Just breathe." He tried to take a breath in and coughed instead, river water forced up in little gushes, lighting his destroyed throat on fire. "That's it. You're ok." Archie's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it, rubbing his back in gentle, continuous circles. Jughead didn't realize he was shivering until he could breathe again, and a pathetic noise escaped his throat. "You're freezing, Juggie. Come on. We're going back to my place; dad's working late today, and even if he wasn't, you still need rest. Can you stand?" 

"I'm-I'm not s-sure." He managed, voice scratchy and frightened. He leans harshly on Archie's shoulder, pushing himself up far too quickly, and everything spins out of control, vision tunneling. He latches onto his arm, knees buckling slightly, closing his eyes and decidedly not falling. 

"Ok. I've got you. The hike back is short, remember?" Archie's voice is gentle and soft, and he takes Jughead's trembling hand in his own warm one. 

They trudge back through the moonlit woods, occasionally pausing to let him catch his breath. His breaths came in short gasps, cold enough that he could see it. It felt like his binder was digging into his sides, or like something was strangling him. Like a rose bush was growing out of his chest, thorns digging into his throat, white buds blooming from his mouth. He was freezing, hands shaking violently, and he almost tripped on one of the many roots growing in his path. 

"Fuck." He gasped, letting his eyes shut, trying to control his breaths, and Archie squeezing his hand was practically his only anchor. 

Jughead slid into the front seat of Archie's beat-up old car, shaking fingers clicking in the seatbelt and then falling limp. The hum of the engine lured him toward sleep, the freezing numbness in his limbs turning to a freezing ache instead. 

"Jug, you've gotta stay awake. I know you're tired, really damn tired, but you have to get inside first." Archie ran his thumb over his white knuckles, gentle but firm. 

"I gotta.. got to take m'binder off." He mumbled, dazed and sleepy but trying desperately to stay awake. 

"We're here. I'm just gonna carry you, ok? That way Vegas won't knock you down, and you won't exhaust your energy." Archie explained quietly, the car stopping. Jughead heard the door open, and then suddenly he was dizzy as hell from the change of position, senses sharpened by it, head against Archie's shoulder. Another door opened, and Vegas' loud barks sounded like a fire alarm. 

"Hey, boy." Jug mumbled tiredly, and Archie leaned down to pet Vegas.

"Vegas, buddy, Jug is tired, you have to be quiet, okay?" He explained to the golden retriever, giving him a pat, and Jughead chuckled at what a nerd he was. Archie carried him haphazardly up the stairs, almost smacking his face against the wall, and then they were in his room. It was quieter than he remembered. 

Archie set him down on the bed, grabbing the first blanket he saw and winding it around his shoulders. "I'm gonna go make you some hot chocolate, ok? Because caffeine is a bad idea for you right now, and you really need to warm up. Wait here for now; you can worry about your clothes later." He explained hurriedly, and ran down the stairs. 

Jughead sat in silence, and then frowned, bringing a hand to his head. Good. His beanie was still on, although thoroughly soaking wet. He slumped back on the bed, pulling the blanket around himself, the burn in his chest fading a little while he caught his breath at last.

Archie returned in what seemed like a blink of an eye, toting 2 mugs of something hot that smelled fucking amazing. Jughead sat up slowly and took the mug Archie handed him, curling steam, and cautiously sipped it. This was the good stuff, what they'd deemed CPR level good; Crisis Prompting Relaxation. It was warm but not too warm, sharpening his mind enough that he didn't have to focus on staying awake, but leaving him pleasantly relaxed. He took another sip and set it on the bedside table.

"Can.. Can I borrow a sweatshirt? I'm fucking frozen." He mumbled, and Archie nodded, rummaging through his closet and pulling out what Jug knew for a fact was his favorite hoodie.

"Here you go, Juggie. Are you good to go change in the bathroom, or should I just leave the room for a minute?" He asked, and Jughead shrugged a little. 

"I think I'm ok." He said quietly, taking the sweatshirt gratefully, and stumbled out of Archie's room and down the hall, turning into the bathroom and leaning heavily on the sink. Jughead closed the door and sighed, then started taking off his coat. Everything was absolutely soaked except for, thankfully, his boxers and binder, which were only a little damp from the river water. He frowned and pulled hard on the corners of his binder, gritting his teeth in frustration until it finally came off, and he let it drop onto the sink with a final gasp.

Jughead pulled Archie's sweatshirt over his head and sighed, the warmth of it a blessing against his chilled skin. It hid his chest pretty well, thank goodness, enough to stave off most of the dysphoria. He leaned against the sink, utterly exhausted, and then there was a knock on the door.

"You sounded like you got stuck in your binder again. Are you good?" Archie asked, only half joking, and Jughead chuckled and opened the door. 

"Almost did. I'm just really, really tired, is all." He said quietly, and Archie wrapped an arm around his waist. They walked back to his room together, and Jughead practically collapsed onto the bed, dizzy and tired, and went back to sipping his hot chocolate. Archie sat down on the bed next to him, gently taking his hand, and Jughead put his drink down, curling closer, leaning up and kissing him chastely on the mouth.

"Are you feeling ok?" Archie asked softly, and Jughead shook his head slightly. He was exhausted and he felt like he'd swallowed a bunch of broken glass, or maybe been hit by an RV. Jug pulled the blanket around himself and shivered, wrapped his arms around Archie. There was something companionable in the silence, something warm, and he felt himself drifting.

 

\--

 

Jughead awoke with the image of Jason Blossom's dead, decaying body burned into his mind, gasping for breath, except it wasn't Jason with the bullet hole in his forehead and glassed-over, whiteout eyes, but Archie.

"A-Arch." He gasped, flying upright, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, fingers trembling violently. Nausea rolled in his stomach, and if yesterday had roses growing in his chest this was hemlock, sick, dizzying poison, vines crawling a chill up his back.

"Jug, sweetheart, I'm here, what's wrong?" Archie's voice came from right beside him, and he turned and sure enough he was there; he'd fallen asleep on him, in fact. "Breathe, Jug. I need you to tell me what's wrong." He said calmly, grasping his shoulders, and he was shaking so hard he could barely answer. 

"You-Jason-You were dead." Jughead finally managed, shaking feverishly, curling into a ball with his boyfriend's dead face burned into his mind. 

"I'm here. I'm going to get you some water, alright, man? You look really pale." Archie explained, and Jughead nodded fervently, curling up tighter and closing his eyes, exhausted and sick. It felt like icy fingers were trailing up and down his back, and he waited.

Archie came back after what felt like forever but was probably only a minute or two with a glass of water, a soft look of concern on his face. Jughead looked up at him miserably and took the glass with shaking fingers, and Archie pressed a warm, gentle hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever; you're actually cold," He frowned. "Take it slow on the water, ok? You don't want to overdo it." Jughead tried not to laugh at the irony of that statement.

"I will." He mumbled, taking a slow sip of the water. It was cold, and only hurt his throat a little bit, but it reminded him all too much of the events of however long ago his experience had been. Jughead took another sip anyways, but the nausea was steadfast, and by the time he'd finished the glass he didn't really feel much better. He remembered the taste of the river water, freezing and slightly silty when you got deeper, and it was enough to set his stomach churning.

Jughead sat up, fumbling for the trash bin next to Archie's bed, mind fogged with exhaustion. He gagged painfully, fingers shaking, and Arch gently rubbed his back as he threw up unceremoniously. His mouth tasted like the river and he swallowed hard, trying not to think about the world where he'd died, been found with his lungs full of water and muck. He set the trash can down and scrunched his eyes shut until his mouth tasted like bile instead of drowning, of death.

"What time is it?" He croaked, trying to take his mind off of it.

"It's just now 10; you fell asleep at about 8:20." Archie told him, and pressed closer. Jughead was still cold, curls still very damp. He leaned against him, and Archie gently started rubbing his back in slow circles, and fuck, he was really warm. "You're freezing, Juggie." 

"That feels incredible." Jughead slurred, relaxing in his arms as the nausea slowly diminished, leaving him exhausted and feeling only vaguely unwell. 

He let all of the tension go out of him as Archie carded warm hands through his curly, river-dampened hair, utterly exhausted, and he didn't fight the sleep that was working into his head, dark, soft tendrils curling around him like a blanket. Archie pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, their legs tangled together, and then to his forehead. Jughead hummed a little, more like a purr than anything else, and let sleep take him.

 

 

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Head Cold by LIGHTS


End file.
